


Too young to choose it

by orphan_account



Category: Fargo (2014)
Genre: Drugs, Family, Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-25
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-04-28 01:01:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5071927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Simone turns 18 and bonds with her uncle, Rye.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too young to choose it

“Heya, Rye?”

Simone, sitting cross-legged on the floor, passed the joint above her head to her uncle who was currently lying across his bed in an existential fit.   
  
Rye took a drag, coughing a little and handing the joint back to Simone, before answering, “What?”

“I was just wonderin’…about the future, ya know.”  
Today was her birthday.  18. Grandma was married at 18.  
She and Rye had stayed up til midnight to celebrate, and much to her satisfaction, Rye’d bought her a new LP and some weed to listen to it with.  The box fan blew the smoke out the opened window into the summer night.

“You’re still young.  You don’t gotta think about the future right now. Plus, _your_ future’s easy.” _Girls have it easy,_ he thought.

“Girls do _not_ have it easy,” she popped him on the head with the back of her hand, “Have you seen the way my dad treats me?”

Whoops, apparently he’d thought that out loud.

“Yeah, but you don’t know what it’s like to be 21 years younger than your brother.  Fuck, he could be my _dad_ , ya know?”

Uncomfortable on the floor, Simone scooched the horizontal Rye over and propped herself up against the headboard, setting her legs on her uncle’s stomach much to his annoyance.

“Oof, hey, I’m not an ottoman.”

“The boys in this family all have the same plan: Grow up, join the family business. What’s my plan? I don’t wanna get married. I wanna have a life first.”

Either Rye was really high, or she wasn’t making any sense.

“Are you saying marriage will kill you? Last I checked, ma’s been married 40 years, and she’s alive as ever,” the record had reached the end of side A, and Rye stared transfixed as the machine took the vinyl disc and flipped it over, “Jeez, I swear these record players are gonna save everyone so much time. I don’t even know how I could bear it when I had to walk over and flip it myself.”

“Marriage isn’t life.  It’s a prison!  Every man I’ve met talks that way.  Why can’t I?”

“You’re a woman.  Women are supposed to want to get married and have kids,” he pressed his hands over his eyes, blinking as he fought off sleep.

Simone crossed her arms; she heard enough of this shit from her dad without having to hear it from Rye.  “Oh, and you’re a man.  You’re supposed to have a wife and provide for your family. How does _that_ feel?”

“I’ll get married…someday,” Rye looked in his mind’s eye to the future, “And I’ll be an asset to the family business, so there’s no question I’ll be able to provide.  If _I_ have kids, there’s a good chance they’ll be able to take this whole place over once I’m gone,” the fact his brother had four daughters and not an heir to the Gerhardt throne had not escaped his attention.  And Bear wouldn’t let Charlie even _think_ about joining the business for one second, not that the kid was any threat to him anyway.

“Rye, you’re not foolin’ anyone,” Simone laughed. _Rye with a wife? And_ kids _? Bull_.

“Just ‘cause it’s your goddamn birthday doesn’t give you free reign to laugh at my dreams, okay?”

“It’s just, well, _you_ know,” she pulled her legs off Rye to sit cross-legged, elbows digging into her knees and chin perched atop her palms, “It’s pretty obvious to me. You don’t have to hide it.”

Whatever the fuck she was talking about, it sure as hell _wasn’t_ obvious to him.

“Ahhh, you better damn well elucidate, sis, ‘cause you’ve got me stumped.”

Simone didn’t want to come right out and say it, so she proceeded with what she saw as very heavy handed clues instead, “You. With a wife.  That’s a joke, right?”

His entire face swirled together like he’d tasted a bad lemon, “What do you mean ‘a joke?’” he rose, eyeing Simone with his hurt pride.

“You just got a reputation is all,” she knew Rye was trying to be intimidating, but she could see right through him.

“I’m 23, Simone, I don’t gotta be strapped to a woman just yet.  I can still have fun,” he set the joint down in the ashtray and crossed the floor to close the window.

“Hey, no, leave that open.  It feels nice out.”

“It’s getting a little late.  You’ll need to be up for your birthday breakfast in the morning,” Rye dismissed his niece as he took the needle off the record and slipped _The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust_ back into its sleeve.

“Come on!  Why’re ya mad, huh?  Stop being so touchy.”

“I have the right to be touchy!  This is my room.  I can be as touchy as I want!” 

A knock at the door preceded Charlie opening Rye’s door a cautious few inches.  
“Hey, maybe think about keeping it down.  Grandma and Grandpa are asleep, and you don’t want ‘em grouchy in the morning, do ya?” He squeaked the door slightly more open to see Simone sitting on the bed, “Oh, and a happy birthday, cuz.”

“Thanks, Charlie.”

“Actually, Simone was just leaving,” he looked at her expectantly, but she shook her head in a cheerfully defiant manner, placing her hands in her lap.

Charlie didn’t want to disturb the scene anymore, especially with Rye’s nasty glare, so he decided to duck out, “Well, goodnight.”

Rye watched the door close and listened for his nephew’s footsteps down the hall to make sure he wasn’t eavesdropping.  A muffled door shut softly, indicating Charlie had returned to his bedroom, so Rye felt safe to return to ending his conversation until Simone’s fingers on the LP sleeve caught him off guard.

“Jeez!” he jumped and let out a sigh, “So you’re leaving after all?  Good.”

Taking the Bowie vinyl out of Rye’s grasp, Simone carefully formulated in what particular way she wanted to upset her pissy, stoned uncle for the night, “Yeah, ah, thanks for the record, and so that we’re all clear, I wasn’t insulting your dreams earlier.  You’re just too gay for your own good is all.”

This was certainly an unwanted jolt in an otherwise pleasant evening.  
  
Rye’s mouth hung open in shock.  He struggled to formulate a forceful comeback beyond the stammering, “I-I-wh-I’m _not_ -“  
  
Before he could even begin to defend his honor and identity against the accusation, Simone was already out of the room, her face peaking back at him between the door and its frame, “Goodnight!”

 The look on Rye’s face was incredible, totally better than any present she would get that day from her comically large family. 


End file.
